


DA:I - Wings Sprouting Off His Back

by strayraccoon



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M, Romance, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 15:05:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3386237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strayraccoon/pseuds/strayraccoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quick look into Inquisition's daily life with a dash of romance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	DA:I - Wings Sprouting Off His Back

**Author's Note:**

> One NSFW paragraph. Thank Varric for that.   
> Also, cheesy title is cheesy :/

**Better viewed on[DeviantArt Story images available there](http://rinnkruskov.deviantart.com/art/DA-I-Wings-Sprouting-Off-His-Back-509398077)  
**

* * *

'Yeah,  _like how can you still walk_?' asked Sera, the self proclaimed friend of the little people,  
jokingly. Holding back snorts and giggles by munching on her homemade biscuits. Crumbs  
stuck upon her peach hued lips and cheeks. Lips curving to a smile, soon widen into wolvish  
grin.

Before her was the Inquisitor, Herald of Andraste, and the very subject of recent rumors  
circulated around Skyhold. One particular rumor said the leader of Inquisition was  
romantically involved with a certain mercenary band leader. Rumors certainly spread fast in  
Inquisition's new stronghold. As there was only one door connecting to Herald's quarters  
from the throne room, denizens of Skyhold would not miss anyone entering whether it's the  
advisors or a sneaking paramour. It would be certainly hard to miss a horned Qunari  
frequenting the royal quarters. Any witty tongue would do the rest.

Despite that, every members of Inquisitor's inner circle knew ahead of every soldiers and  
nobles in Skyhold. Mainly because Cullen and Josephine walked in on the unlikely pair on  
one occasion. While the rest caught up hints from how Lavellan and Bull have been  
behaving recently. Throwing indecent jokes at each other and uncharacteristically more  
protective during battles.

Not to mention one occasion Cole performed a monologue on their 'adventures' during  
dinner in the wilderness. Cat's out of the bag then. Some had their humor restored, some  
disgusted beyond reason. Took those individuals few days before they could look the  
Inquisitor in the eye again. Varric certainly found it amusing, if not scribbling furiously on his  
notes. Not without Cassandra perching behind him.

The elven boy sat in Sera's lounge at Herald's Rest, taking a break he rarely get as advisors  
and their problems fawned over him every breathing moment. Not to mention daily morning  
drills with Commander Helaine, taxing much of his needed strength to be used against nobles  
and their retainers. Vying for his attention despite his clear Dalish origin. Leaning against the  
windowsill, Lavellan sighed whilst facing away from his close friend. Hiding blooming blush  
like a noble maiden would during her debut into society.  
  


Slender arm circled around Lavellan's neck, wasting no time before pulling the exhausted  
boy. Lavellan's silver met Sera's tanned shoulders. Her chin rested on the other elf's head  
playfully, as a sister would towards her younger brother. Questions following such action  
certainly did not match the sibling atmosphere around them. '… how does a Qunari and elf  
work anyway, it's not like it  _fits_ , yeah?'

The younger elf blushed furiously, both cheeks and ears reddened. Familiar voice shouting  
in the training ring outside did not help at all, if not making the cheeks bloomed even more  
embrium crimson. Knowing Sera would not let him go without satisfactory answer, Lavellan  
answered 'We have our method, alright? I can't just share my night adventures with  
everyone'

'I'll wait until that weird kid blurt it out for us like that one time you sprawled over Dales, pffft'  
commented the city-bred elven woman playfully, snorting loudly at the end. Looking at  
dumbfounded Herald, silently mouthing what could have been a scream, calling her name in  
both embarrassment and anger. 'Just kiddin' there! Don't piss yer pants for it'  
'Mortified more like it' replied the Inquisitor.

Ignoring the difficult word, Sera changed the subject to something less embarrassing.  
Something the Herald would gladly share. She thought it would be a fair trade that Lavellan  
had known whatever it was to know about her and Red Jennies. They had been pulling  
pranks, shared special spot on the inn's roof, and helped little people. Sharing secrets  
should be a normal occurrence. It would be strange otherwise.

'Alright. How about this..? Why him?' asked the Red Jenny as she let her big shot friend go.  
Lavellan looked at her in confusion then. Sera slightly tilted her head to the side, pointing  
towards a towering figure outside the inn sparring against Cassandra. 'Don't tell me it's the  
horn, that does make him horny'

Both laughed at the cheesy joke then. Holding their sides, trying to quell the pain that coming  
from guffawing too hard. Anyone outside Sera's lounge could only imagine what kind of pranks  
she'd unleashed upon unfortunate souls crossing her. Her latest was classic bucket of water  
above Josephine's office door, rendering her soaking wet in front of Orlesian dignitaries.  
Cassandra's stormy stride paled in comparison when the Antivan ambassador was literally  
on fire hunting for Sera.

Soon the elven mage stopped laughing and contemplated Sera's question. A simple  
question for a simple curiosity, yet a complicated answer arose. Lavellan looked up then, as  
he always did whenever he's contemplating. Except it was wooden ceiling instead of vast  
sky.

'Ceiling won't answer my question, y'know' interrupted Sera, casually cutting her overgrown  
blonde hairs using knife she kept for the sole purpose. 'Ugh, cut cut grow cut. Stay short,  
damn hair! Want me to cut yours too? No need for posh Orlesian hair…hair..cutter thing'

Lavellan sighed, 'Hairdresser, and it was not my idea. Vivienne insisted'. He made a mental  
note to get a pair of scissors for the Red Jenny.

'Ugh, still posh. You got knife, use it!' Sera made a retching noise. Creators know she hated  
nobles and their affair. It's a wonder she fought well alongside the First Enchanter without  
shooting an arrow or two between her eyes. '…and the answer? Andraste's tits. You really  
don't know?'

'Seems like interesting talk in there, Inquisitor. Mind if I join in?' A newcomer armored in  
Kirkwall regular waltzed in Sera's lounge. Feminine voice contrasting masculine appearance  
and behavior. He brought two tankards of the inn's finest carefully in his hands, before  
putting them on wooden table inside Sera's room. The owner of the room accepted the bribe  
and allowed Krem to sit with a tilt of her head.

'Oh, Creators' muttered Lavellan, resisting the urge to say it out loud knowing Sera a devout  
follower of Andraste. The Charger's lieutenant sat on an empty spot beside him.

Krem pulled out a green bottle onto his right hand, uncorking it with little effort. A small task  
for someone who could wield a huge war hammer. 'The boys know about you and the chief. I  
do hope the big ass makes you happy. Still I'm also curious why chief of all people…'

'I mean yeah, you got grumpy seeker and miss prissy pants. If that is your thing. Vint laundry  
keeps fawning over you…aaaand there you go with Tiny. I lost ten royals to dwarf! Thank  
you very much!'

'Ha! Never bet against a dwarf!' Krem interjected. 'Hmm, I noticed you didn't mention  
yourself'

'Not interested. Too big. Too  _elfy_ ' Sera replied. Both Krem and Lavellan knew there's more  
than she let on, but they decided not to pry.

The Inquisitor drank whatever inside the tankard Krem brought, silently thankful he did not  
bring Maraas-lok. Then he turned his attention to recent memories. Weeks and months that  
certainly felt like centuries. Sera's question in mind, he searched his memories of Bull.  
Huge Qunari wielding two handed axe, endless waves of raging sea, others dwarfed in  
comparison. Killing Tevinter smuggler in stormy coast alongside his mercenaries in the  
front line instead of commanding from safe distance. The same composed man getting  
excited at a dragon and a giant's bout, like a children in an annual harvest festival.

The elf mage muttered then, 'His back, perhaps'. Both Krem and Sera looked at their leader  
in confusion. They did not expect such obscure answer. Most women getting frisky with the  
Qunari would mention his buff chest, broad shoulders, possibly large  _'feet'_ , not the Iron  
Bull's back.

'Quite unexpected, Your Worship. Mind explaining?' Krem pressed the issue in curiosity.

Lavellan answered, eyes still gazing towards the lounge's ceiling 'I do wish I know'

'Awww, you cheap-' Sera's objection was interrupted by another entering her lounge. The  
Nightigale addressed the three cheerfully, but solemnly nodded at the Inquisitor.

Knowing what the nod meant, Lavellan left his seat. 'Break time over, I suppose. Anything  
interesting, Lelianna?'. The red headed woman smiled, indicating they should talk where the  
walls were thicker and had less ears attached to it.

* * *

It was still an excellent question Sera asked, contemplated the Inquisitor as he walked away  
from the war room with Commander Cullen beside him. Matching his speed with the shorter  
boy, fully knowing his full stride would outrun Lavellan. Lelianna and Josephine went ahead  
to the ambassador's office, boxes of Tevinter chocolate and candied nuts in hand.

The Antivan ambassador had prepared tea for the Inquisitor and his advisors as she usually  
did after their work hour. An unwritten agreement between the four to spare few waking  
moments together without speaking of Inquisition matters. Josephine prepared tea of  
subtle aroma, remembering the Commander disliking anything with strong odor.  
  


'Two or three pieces each, nothing more' warned the Spymaster at Cullen and Lavellan.  
Especially the young mage as he's notoriously known to be a sweet tooth. He looked at  
Lelianna with pleading eyes reminding her of a certain mabari that she relented at last. 'Fine,  
five pieces. No more…and only Lavellan'

Cullen laughed then, a welcome uncouth addition into the reverie. The inner council  
members knew he needed more. 'Looks like you're getting better at the Game, Inquisitor!'  
'Don't mistake the mabari eyes with court intrigue, Commander' hissed Lelianna. She  
sounded angry but the others knew otherwise. 'This parlor trick won't deceive the nobles in  
Halamshiral'

'Fine by me. I'm not sweet toothed enough to plead for petit fours…is that what you call it in  
Orlesian?'

'Fereldan' the spymaster sighed, reaching for Josephine's candied nuts a Tevinter magister  
sent for them after Inquisition lent their assistance to her recently, as per Dorian's request.  
The Ambassador nodded, supporting Lelianna's dismay upon Cullen's ignorance to the  
Game and finer culture.

Cullen turned his attention to the elven boy afterwards, 'How goes the training with  
Commander Helaine? I see she's giving you drills every morning'

'To be honest I still cannot grasp the form' answered the mage. Committing to be Knight-  
Enchanter was a worthy decision, one that followed by rigorous training and endless drills.  
Such discipline was appealing to the younger mage, as it offered close range battle. Not to  
mention it would raise troops morale the moment he marched into front lines. Solas also  
mentioned that Knight Enchanters derived from ancient elven knights called Arcane  
Warriors or Dirth'ena Enasalin. Lelianna's stories on Hero of Ferelden might have influenced  
his choice of specialization as well.

'I can give you some lessons on swordsmanship basic, if you'd like' offered the Commander.  
'…or…hmm, Lelianna I recall Warden Commander Suranna took the same discipline, yes?' It  
was there, the slight embarrassed blush Cullen tried very hard to hide whenever the topic  
turned to the Hero of Ferelden.

The Spymaster answered Cullen's question then, 'Slightly different so to say, she claimed it's  
called Arcane Warrior. Ancient elven warriors utilizing both magic and physical prowess.  
Imagine my surprise when she suddenly raised swords and wearing armors she couldn't  
have considering her small frame'

'…and mine when she returned to the Circle in full ancient elven regalia' added the blonde  
Commander, shrugging in disbelief. Though a slight gentle note when he pronounced 'she'  
revealed more than he let on. Lelianna's lips curved into a rare genuine smile.

'Point is, I saw her fight. Once she fought as a mage would, supporting from the back line.  
Throwing fireballs and thunder' continued Lelianna, imitating an old friend's jests. 'Later  
though, she fought in the front line. Wielding swords in each of her hands, donning silverite  
armor belonged to ancient elven warrior, alongside Warden Alistair. I admit I enjoyed  
watching them fight together. Silver maiden and royal golden slicing through darkspawn  
forces, marching towards Archdemon with allied forces behind them. Entrusting their back  
to each other as vast darkness surrounded the pair' The way she chanted those words, it  
sounded like she was singing and breathing every syllables.

Cullen smiled wryly, regretted his absence from such pinnacle of renowned battle against  
Fifth Blight forces. Alas, he was already shipped out to Kirkwall.

After finishing her story, the redheaded spymaster sipped her tea, which had turned cold.  
The Ambassador poured her another cup, hot still. Both glared at Lavellan trying to snatch  
sixth piece of liquor filled chocolate, followed by the Commander's muffled snort.  
'Who taught her swordsmanship though?' Lavellan asked as he shrinked away from both women's glare.  
Silently made a mental note never to cross the two when it's involving sweets.

'Ah, Warden … or King Alistair did. There was Sten as well. Suppose he's Arishok now.  
Although I recall Alistair was not pleased when St- Arishok or Zevhran butted in the private  
lesson' Lelianna said with nostalgic look upon her face, longing for days long gone.

'Who wouldn't?' Josephine added with a giggle.

'Has there been an exchange?' Familiar voice spoke just outside ambassador's office. One  
belonged to visiting noble frequenting the throne room in hope for a glance at the Inquisitor.

'You're awful!' retorted the other voice, giggling right after finishing her line.

'No! I meant gifts…or better yet, betrothal. Heard anything about it?'

'Ohh, indeed. Very romantic as I heard it'. The two voiced continued then, occasionally  
followed by giggles and muffled laughs. It took no talented ambassador nor spymaster to  
know who they were referring.

Josephine sighed, 'They should be aware we can hear them just fine. Pay them no mind,  
Inquisitor. Rumors should wind down sooner or later'

'At least it's not Cole, it gets uncomfortably graphic' said the Inquisitor. His three advisors  
looked at each other, both curious and mortified at the same time. Especially Cullen, who first stumbled  
upon Bull's full manhood when all he was trying to do was seeking Lavellan's council.  
The elf mage knew it's a matter of time before Blackwall or Cassandra would spill the bean.  
'M-moving on, I think I'll take up on your offer'

'Which offer? questioned the Commander, flustered.

'I believe it was swordsmanship basic or were you too fixated on your old flame?' Josephine  
teased the Commander, not passing up the chance to do so whenever possible.

'Maker's breath! Can we talk about something else?' Then the four of them continued to  
laugh and enjoy the rest of the evening with idle talk. Until a scout came barging in bringing  
dire news that ended up with emergency meeting and Lavellan riding towards Fallow Mire.

* * *

'…With  _a goat_ ' the Herald of Andraste repeated as he leaned against one armchair, hands  
covering his mouth. Inevitable wolfish grin forming upon his face, couldn't help but being  
amused at situation that arise.

Lavellan's urgent mission in the bogs involved fighting undeads, answering challenges from  
Avvar's heir, and rescuing soldiers the mountain dwellers captured. As the chief's son refused  
to parlay, the Inquisitor was forced to kill him. Surprisingly, it brought unexpected result.  
The highlander Chief himself attacking Skyhold by throwing goat at it. Imagining the four legged  
mammal flung at the stone wall had Lavellan difficulties in maintaining his facial  
expression. He might just have to go through Ben-Hassrath training to fix it.

The elven Inquisitor looked past the audience where his inner circle members were, sitting  
by Varric's corner. Except for Vivienne who perched upon the second floor balcony  
overlooking the throne room, as she enjoyed observing the masses from vantage ground.  
Realizing the younger boy's gaze, the First Enchanter gestured for Lavellan to return his  
attention to a more pressing matter.

Varric was grinning from ear to ear, taking notes on every details happening in the throne  
room. Cassandra looked at the Inquisitor sympathetically, but occasionally glancing at the  
author's scribbles. Iron Bull and Sera made no effort in holding their humor. Their laugh  
were loud enough to be heard from the throne. Blackwall was unsure how to react.  
Nevertheless Lavellan could not help but envy his friends freely expressing their mind at the  
moment, as opposed of being stuck sitting on the throne he never wanted and pretending to  
be a person he was not.  
  


Dorian and Solas managed to scrounge up references on Alamarri culture in the library and  
hastily wrote references on a blackboard. As they practically lived in the haven of knowledge,  
they had full access to where to find information needed, even during duress. They had Bull,  
who was tall enough, to raise the reference filled board above sea of heads. The Ambassador  
noticed the spectacle and made effort to keep everyone's attention to the front whilst Lavellan  
seek council from the chalk writing. Both Cullen and Lelianna fought the urge to look back,  
though they know whatever transpired would amuse them. The letters were small, but being  
an elf had its boon. The Inquisitor managed to read the words which looks like coded cipher  
to normal eyes. Cole snuck and hid behind the throne, providing council into the Avvar Chief's mind.

'He meant no harm, he accepts. Such is their way'

Despite the help flooding from his friends, Lavellan was unsure how to respond to such  
offense. After all he's not familiar with human laws. Josephine was as dumbfounded as the  
Inquisitor that she said , 'Don't look at me'.

* * *

After exhausting trips and excursions to Inquisition protected area, finally Lavellan got his  
well deserved rest. Throwing himself onto the bed which apparently upgraded into crimson  
draped bed. Red velvet veil covered four corners, fleur de lys pattern on the crimson sheet,  
and redwood woodwork. Recalling it was similar to beds in Free Marches, those sold in  
fancy furniture shop in human cities. Innocent days long past, whence he could prance about  
human cities without anyone giving him second thought. The veils would help the young elf  
sleep better, muffling outside noises and dimming light to a much more comfortable degree.  
Lavellan remembered Ambassador Montliyet said so when he confessed his difficulty to sleep.  
He never thought she'd actually go through the trouble of replacing the bed, feeling sorry for  
stealing some of her candied nuts when she was out of her office earlier.

Lavellan personally preferred the outdoors, sleeping under the trees and gentle moonlight.  
Amongst pearl white hallas. Watching glittering stars in dark blue heavens as they drifted off  
to sleep. Alas, being the leader of Inquisition forces robbed him of such luxury. Sprawling on  
the new bed, slowly drifting to sleep. He cared not his legs were hanging off the bed as he was  
laying sideways. They would be sore the next day but the recently knighted enchanter could care less.

In his dreams Sera's question circulated, festering in one's thought. Why him indeed? Since  
when? How it happened?

Darkness formed into a dank dungeon, red lyrium sprouted in neglected corners instead of  
dust. Tacky carvings of canine: wolves and dogs in equal numbers. Recognizing it to be  
Redcliffe Castle in darker future of Thedas, the dreaming elf muttered curses as he wished  
not to see such abomination again. Alas, such ground had been frequenting Lavellan's  
dreaming moments.

Dorian walked beside Lavellan, muttering to himself time magic theorem. They had seen  
atrocity in western dungeon, in the form of Grand Enchanter Fiona slowly turning into living  
mineral. From whom the Venatori mined their source of red lyrium. Sinister form of metal  
that could take over one's mind and life force in the process. A dark future awaited the two  
when denied their existence for a full year.

Within such future, Lavellan saw the Iron Bull's back. Facing away from prison's bar,  
humming tavern songs. Latched upon his weary back were red lyrium, growing ever so  
slowly but soon it would encase the well built Qunari. Crimson mist veiled upon the bigger  
man, equally malicious red festering inside his eyes. Replacing what was iron grey before.

'You're dying?' The elven mage remembered uttering those two words after the Iron Bull  
explained what happened to him in the absence of Herald. The other simply smiled sadly,  
fully knowing his inevitable fate. One he would not go without fighting to death.

Invigorated back as Iron Bull returned to where he belonged, the battlefield. Slicing Venatori  
mages as the four advanced towards Alexius' throne room, with Lelianna in tow behind  
them. Clearly exhausted from the torture, one she never broke into. Never failing to shoot  
down stragglers her comrades missed.

Accepting back as the Qunari turned away from Dorian and Lavellan, striding towards  
demon filled hallways alongside the trusty dwarf and his crossbow. Both knew they  
marched to their deaths. Once again the Inquisitor watched in horror as terror demons and  
crazed Venatori mages threw lifeless bodies onto stone floor, stabbing Lelianna at the end  
of her struggle. Their claws and swords glittered as crimson liquid dripped freely from it.  
The trio's empty eyes filled Lavellan's vision as Dorian dragged him into the rift once again.

Redcliffe castle changed shape into stormy coastline in northern Ferelden. The Iron Bull's  
back looked uncertain then, broad shoulders slumped to the side. His good right eye never  
parted from Venatori camp across the hills. Krem and the rest of Bull's Chargers cornered  
like rats as Tevinter extremist descended upon them.

Which one to discard? Alliance and Loyalty to the Qun or Lives of the Chargers? Upon his  
right side was Gatt, expressing his concern for Iron Bull's questioned loyalty. The elf he  
saved in Seheron did not wish for the Qunari to become Tal-vashoth. On the left side was  
Lavellan himself, telling the Iron Bull to have the Chargers retreat. Neither could make the  
desicion for the Iron Bull, only influence him. In the end it was the head of Bull's Chargers  
could make the call.

Sweating hands fingering war horn hung upon his sides. Should he called in the retreat,  
Qunari Juggernaut would be overwhelmed. Should he not, the Chargers would be fortunate  
enough if the Vints kill them instead of experimenting red lyrium on them. In one decisive  
moment the Iron Bull pulled out his horns and blew it as hard as he could. Hearing the  
familiar sound, Krem ordered his men to retreat.

'They are my men' growled the huge Qunari when Gatt bellowed at him for butchering the  
operation.

Then shapes around Lavellan turned into a more familiar place, Skyhold battlements.  
Witnessing assassination attempt at the 'Tal-Vashoth' working under Inquisition. One  
attempt the Iron Bull brushed off, despite his fear for descending into primal madness as  
the other Tal-Vashoth did. Fear enveloped his back then. More than uncertainty, more than  
regrets for butchering potential alliance, more than anything else was apparent fear.  
Lavellan reached upon his back then, the figure in the Fade.

' _I can protect you. I can do things your blade can't_ '

Battlements shapeshifted into snow covered Haven, further down Frostback Mountain  
where Temple of Sacred Ashes used to be. The Iron Bull was standing in front of his tent by  
Haven's gate, amused at Lavellan's word. 'How would you do that? You're a good healer, I'll  
give you that. But mine has blood grooves'. Confident grin formed upon his alien visage.

'Point taken, you big ass' said the mage then, more amused than irritated.

The other man replied then, 'Yes, you should. Your legs will grow sore tomorrow if you  
persist sleeping like this' Image of Haven disappeared abruptly. In stead of town blanketed  
in snow, Lavellan's private quarters appeared in place of it. The horned Qunari stayed in the  
young elf's field of vision. Towering over the smaller figure on the bed.

'Why are you here?' the boy asked then, dumbfounded. He blinked a few times as darkness  
retreated from the corner of his eyes, allowing colors of physical world filling the elf's sight.  
He looked outside, the sky was darker than when he drifted off to sleep earlier. It was  
moonless pitch black night, no glittering stars either as cloud covered most of the heavens.

'Because certain someone neglected locking their bedroom's lock, again' smirking, the  
Qunari shifted Lavellan's position on the mattress. His smaller frame allowed Iron Bull to  
easily pick him up. He had the courtesy of taking Lavellan's boots off before doing so. 'What if  
assassins decided to pay a visit while you sleep?'

'…and keeping certain someone out in the cold? Perish the thought' the exhausted boy  
yielded as the bigger man gently lifted him, putting Lavellan's tired body right in the center  
of the bed. He rolled off to the sides, giving his paramour space to lay on. Creators know he  
took more space than the Inquisitor did.

'Here I thought you're distressed by nobles talking about me frequenting your room, Kadan'  
it took no effort to realize the signal, the Iron Bull climbed the bed. Loud creaking as the  
mattress yielded under his weight. Clearly most Orlesian or Fereldan bed was not designed  
for a Qunari.

'Who told you?'

'Red did, it's not like I didn't know it beforehand. Formality perhaps, but her thoughts that  
counts. Nobles are like peacocks, too busy flaunting their feathers to notice everything else'  
as the Qunari spoke, familiar scent of Chasind Sack Mead permeated the air. 'Anyway, when  
did you change your interior?'

'Josephine did when we're off wetting our breeches in the bogs. She probably realized my  
previous bed could not hold a Qunari of your size' said Lavellan, deliberately teasing the  
man laying besides him. Iron Bull replied it with a nudge to Lavellan's middle, laughing  
heartily.

Lavellan snuggled against the bigger man's neck then, closing his eyes as Fade beckoned  
upon him once again. If there were another that could lull the dalish youngster to sleep  
aside from grassy bed, it would be his lover's broad chest. Not afraid of possible encounter  
with demons in his dreams, as his physical body was in the embrace of stronger arm  
wrapping around his back. Without the need of seeing the Iron Bull's visage, the elf know his  
significant other was smiling.

It took no effort for Lavellan to realize then. It was neither uncertain nor sad backs of the  
Iron Bull that made him fell for the older Qunari. Those fearful backs only strengthen the elf  
mage's resolution in protecting Iron Bull. What made Lavellan head over heels for the head  
of Bull's Chargers was his confident if not gleeful back as he lead the Chargers into battle.

Too bad the others would have to live the mystery.

* * *

'So, Tiny. I understand you're reluctant to share whatever happened in the room. I can  
respect that' said the dwarven author, quill on one hand and parchment on another. 'Kid's  
graphic description doesn't count by the way. I had to get it directly from you or His  
Inquisitioness'

'Thank fuck for that' replied Iron Bull, slightly irritated for getting reminded at Cole's  
mortifying monologue. As much as he loved the squirelly kid, he still needed to learn when  
to and when not to speak. It was more of a matter of what to-es in fact.

The two were sitting in Herald's rest, by the Chargers' usual spot at the other end of the  
room, by the stairs. Krem was missing from his usual chair in the corner, where he normally  
drank his alcohol directly from the bottles. Varric confided in Iron Bull about his possible  
next titles and decided to peruse his expertise in mercenary and Ben-Hassrath knowledge.

'Still, I'm but curious what or why … what's the word... the attraction? No, that sounds like  
some cheap novel.' Varric's sentences ended in mumbles and muttering on grammars and  
vocabulary usage. Tapping his fingers on wooden table, the dwarf continued to seek  
forgotten words in his mental dictionary. Brows furrowed so much it amused the Iron Bull.

'I noticed you're taking your writing very seriously'

'Writing is a serious business. Incorrect grammar not only cause self-humiliation but also  
misinterpretations. Imagine what happened when the characters speak of a dead person in  
present tense! Or vice versa! Not to mention words and phrases usage should be placed on  
correct scene and situation. Would you have plebeians speak in royal tongue? Fereldan  
speaking in Orlesian accent? Orlesian noble using Carta phrases? It's as strange as listening  
to Lavellan spouting noble crap out of nowhere'

'I agree, we all know how ignorant he is to non-elven affairs. Speaking of characters, I recall  
your villains are well written. The way you write it, seems like they landed on the heroes'

'Why thank you, I believe the best villains are those willing to get their hands dirty-' Varric  
trailed off as he realized his Qunari friend tried to derail the subject of their  
conversation. 'Well played, Tiny. I almost forgot what I came here for'

'Hah! Here I almost got you'

'Come on, just give me…say, one word. I can work on from there' the dwarf insisted.

'Sure, let's see what you've got' challenged the former Ben-Hassrath. Shifting in his seat to  
face Varric, smirking. Declaring a challenge to the renowned author. The Qunari had  
always wanted to see his favorite writer in action. In sense of literary works instead of doing  
reverse moonsault while shooting bolts onto Carta thugs. 'Eye'

' _Words cannot describe the hue in his eyes. Warm shades of embrium crimson, not sinister  
red lyrium, of his outer iris. Emerald forests encircling dark pupil. In between embrium and  
forests were golden fields of wheat. Said it used to be mere fields in Inquisitor's eyes, but  
unwilling visit into the fade had changed him. The eyes were merely physical change the  
mysterious realm did. But a welcome change to his paramour as the twin gems sparkle so  
whenever he's in the perimeter. Colors dancing in joyful, innocent harmony'  
'Nice! You said you weren't good with romance_'

'I've been training to meet up our Seeker's standard' Varric said confidently. Muffled  
disgusted noise could be heard from the other end of the wooden table where Cassandra  
sat with Blackwall and Solas. The Warden had been teaching the apostate how to play  
diamond back. 'But I digress, descriptive passages is rather my forte. Genre had nothing to  
do with it'

'So I've noticed. Fingertips'

_'Lightning struck out of Lavellan's fingertips as if he commanded the skies itself. Violent  
torrents of electric force barraged the enemy without mercy. Shocking and immobilizing  
them but for a moment. A precious moment whence front line fighters utilize their swords  
and axes, slicing through foes unfortunate enough to be standing in their way. ….damnit I  
derailed, give me a second…uhh, right. Hard to imagine the very same fingertips unleashing  
unstoppable force could produce less lethal and kinder, gentle even, magic. Compassionate  
smooth met battle hardened rough, tips tracing upon newer wounds. Crimson red flowing  
out the cuts. Pain slowly disappeared as the wounds closed, ticklish trailing upon old scars  
in exchange_'

'Crap. That's a whole lot of details you put in there'

'I am but a humble servant to my readers' Varric nodded solemnly, but quickly returned to  
his ever so slightly smug demeanor. 'Now do you have any more prompts for me or are you  
ready to confess?'

'Hah, you won. But why not both? Back' Considering how forthcoming Iron Bull with  
sensitive information, Varric considered if the word provided was truth or mere prompts.

'Back huh? Rather strange. Let's see…' Varric gathered his thought for a while, failing to  
notice the trio stopped playing diamond back. The dwarf didn't even realize Blackwall had  
lost a shirt. Solas deemed it wise to cease playing as the Seeker put her utmost attention to  
their local storyteller. When Varric looked up and saw Cassandra's face, he grinned as he  
recited images woven into his head.

' _Slender frame on velvet sheet, face down against pillow of similar material. Ragged breath,  
cheeks and ears bloomed red, muffled moans escaping the mouth, teeth biting pillow in  
hapless excitement. Slightly wettened from dripping saliva. Hands tied in scarves, denying  
him from clawing the sheets nor holding the bedpost. Pain and pleasure mixed in well, too  
well perhaps. His back quivered from gentle kisses and touch, occasionally bites that leaves  
ever so sweet red marks. Calloused hand ran over the sweating back, slightly smelled of  
elfroot and violet. Subtle, but it's there. A back so small yet it shouldered burdens of every  
single living being in Thedas during the day. But, after sundown it was different. Within  
those quarters reserved for the unlikely pair, his lover would lift such burden he never  
asked for yet willingly shoulder. It gets rougher in time, bed creaking grew louder each  
push…_'

'S-STOP RIGHT THERE!' the Seeker screamed, interrupting Varric from describing the  
exchange further. Her face bright red, as if someone threw tomatoes on her. As the dwarf  
expected, the story he spun was too indecently graphic for her to be told in public. Blackwall  
clicked his tongue in disappointment while the elven apostate kept his expression neutral.  
Though it didn't take much to realize he had been keenly listening.

'Aww, it was getting to the good part' said the Iron Bull, shifting in his seat and proceeded to  
refill Varric's empty tankard '…and frighteningly accurate as well. Nice going there'

'I aim to please' said the author, bowing slightly whilst mimicking Cassandra's favorite  
phrase whenever Iron Bull complimented her fighting style. He sipped the content of his  
recently refilled tankard, coutesy of the mercenary leader. Varric's eyes widened for a  
second before he spurted out his drink. Wiping his mouth, the dwarf retorted 'Andraste's  
great flaming ass! What is this?!'

The Iron Bull laughed as he too drank the burning liquid, 'Maraas-lok!' Coughing after his  
throat lit on fire.  
  


At that moment the very same Inquisitor descended the stairs, with Lelianna in tow.  
Fortunately for the dwarf and his audience, Lavellan did not overhear Varric's spontaneous  
friend fiction. Blackwall feigned innocence as he shuffled his deck of cards, pretending not to  
know anything about the affair. Solas followed suit by offering to distribute the cards, chuckling  
as he did so. Varric decided to abandon his writing and requested a game of Wicked Grace.  
Iron Bull put on poker face as he observed his hands and planned future moves. Casually  
asking the elf to join in. Cassandra's mouth was wide open, finding no word that could save her  
from the embarrasing situation. With the young elf , and the whole inner circle knowing her vice,  
it would only take the densest to know what Varric had been telling.

'What did I miss?' The silver haired elf questioned, one hand on his slender hips. Clearly fishing  
for information from the men. His spymaster would not miss such opportunity either as she let  
the Inquisitor wasted minutes in the tavern 'Not another year of fight against massive demon army,  
I hope'

'..NO, ABSOLUTELY NOTHING' cried the Seeker, clearly flustered. Such reaction only stoke  
the Inquisitor's curiosity. Knowing he'd pursue the subject, Cassandra quickly rose from her  
seat and dragged the elven boy out Herald's Rest.

Lavellan's amused voice trailed off in the distance, 'Oh, I see! Must be one of those stories!'  
Thankfully still ignorant to the fact that he himself was the subject of indecent plot. Lelianna,  
oblivious of the issue, followed Cassandra and Lavellan. Whilst the remaining laughed their  
posteriors off witnessing such comical scene.

They'd continue the laugh if Sera and Krem did not descend the stairs while discussing  
equally interesting issue. 'His back of all things, feet I can understand. Back?'

'Inquisitor said he didn't understand either, did he? We won't have the answer anytime soon'  
replied the Chargers' lieutenant, bringing with him two empty tankards. Seeing the crowd  
sitting in Chargers' usual spot, Krem continued 'Hey Chief, you could have called, you know'

'Ha, looks like they have been asking the same question' commented the Qunari. 'Am I to  
believe you had nothing to do with it?'

'Perish the thought, second hand information is not reliable enough'

* * *

Later that evening, one of Inquisition agents called in for Blackwall, Iron Bull, Cole, and  
Cassandra as emergency situation had arisen that the Inquisitor himself had to ride for  
Fallow Mire. A swamp region south of Hinterlands notorious for its undead problem.  
Selected entourage spent the rest of the evening preparing for long and arduous journey  
ahead.

Riding behind the Inquisitor, the Iron Bull steered his Fereldan horse expertly as the host  
descended Frostback Mountain towards Hinterlands. The elven mage was riding on a  
brown maned Halla, a ride he's accustomed to. Even more so that the proud animal was  
Lavellan's partner back in Free Marches. How it one day wound itself in front of Haven's  
gate, nobody knew. Only the elven mage was excited, laughing happily at the sight of his  
friend. He ran towards the loyal friend as if wings grew on his back. Forehead touched  
another intimately, knowing the others had gone through unspeakable hardships. There  
were times the Qunari suspected his lover could speak to Hallas. He took out a small paper  
and wrote on it hastily 'Ask Solas' in bad handwriting as bumpy ride not allowing him finer  
forms.

Cole sat behind the Inquisitor, as he could not ride yet. One issue that ought to be remedied  
soon. The boy was quiet , fixing his hats many a times. Shrieking wind kept sweeping  
his queer shaped hat off that Cole finally kept holding it on like his life depended on it. The  
sight brought smile to the rest of the entourage.

Small frame, as thin as a twig, might just crumble due to its brittleness. Younger elf that  
faced away from bonfire during cold nights away from Haven or Skyhold. Curling into fetal  
position, Lavellan slept more soundly in the open instead of behind safe walls of Inquisition  
stronghold. When nobody was paying attention, he'd snuck towards his Halla and snuggled  
with it for the rest of the night. Not without the Qunari's constant eye on him, whether he  
knew it or not. Should Cassandra caught him doing so, she'd give him an earful that  
Lavellan entered the tent prepared for him. His back slumped in defeat.

Frozen icy trail the elven knight enchanter left behind as he phased towards undead rising  
from deep waters, dragging Cole into watery hells. It might be Fade toying with Iron Bull's  
remaining good eye, but what he saw as Lavellan took flight was dazzling azure feathers  
sprouting off his back. During close quarter fights, the Qunari would plaster his back onto  
the Inquisitor's. Protecting him from archers and melee fighters vying for unguarded  
moments. Feeling the warmth, the Iron Bull was ensured that Elves did not grow wings  
when he was not looking.

The Qunari was so used to the brittle elf standing in the back row alongside Dorian and  
Solas, throwing spells at faraway enemies, that he found it a bit startling when Lavellan  
suddenly charged off against lines of enemies alone. Staff in one hand and sword that  
seemed to be made out of light in another. The Iron Bull admitted he enjoyed fighting side  
by side, guarding each other's back, killing enemies that the others missed. They moved  
together as if they had practiced beforehand that the rest of the crew thought they were  
dancing.

'Are you seeing this, kid?' Blackwall addressed Cole, whom he had dragged off the murky  
swamps. Stabbing a ghoul in the older man helped Cole gagged out water and  
weeds he accidentally swallowed during his brief misadventure under the water surface.

'Yes. They dance. Different dance but equally protective. One complement the others. Where  
one excels in strength, the others in magical finesse'

'Good, report this to Varric when we return. He'd be sorry he'd rather taking care of Cartha  
thugs in Hinterlands'. Said the Warden in amused gruff voice. His mouth curving into a sly  
smile. One which Cole imitated immediately.

'Seems like we don't need to worry Lavellan butchering Halamshiral later' commented  
Cassandra, she was in good humor then. Despite the dire situation they were in. Fighting  
risen undead and devout Lady of the Skies followers.

Barrages of lightning passed by the Seeker in quick succession. She turned back  
to find a terror demon standing behind her, mouth open in ironic terror as thunder struck  
him the next second. Seizing the opportunity, Cassandra raised her sword. Summoning  
power she gained at the end of her Vigil. Dazzling light burned demons in mere seconds.

'Nice move, Cassandra!' the Inquisitor complimented the Seeker joyfully.

'No, thank YOU' replied the Seeker as she jumped into the fray once again. Stabbing and  
slashing demons standing in her way.

After no more undead rising beyond watery surface and rouge Avvar soldiers standing,  
the Iron Bull ordered for Chargers throat cutters to check whether there are enemies alive.  
With them in action, no one would be left standing. The former Ben-Hassrath approached  
the Inquisitor then. After many considerations, he absent-mindedly patted the elf's back.

_A back so small yet it shouldered burdens of every single living being in Thedas_

The smaller figure jolted ,startled from the sudden gesture. Blackwall saw the promising  
scene and proceeded to pretend cleaning his swords from guts and blood sticking on it.  
Cassandra looked the other way hastily, hiding a grin. Lavellan took a glance at the Iron Bull,  
confusion hiding sparks of glee.

_Colors dancing in joyful, innocent harmony._

'Oh, you're wounded. Let me tend to it' said the mage, oblivious still to Varric's smut  
literature starring Lavellan himself. Summoning magical forces, a kinder one instead of  
lethal lightning, which takes form of emerald sparks floating around the elf's right hand.  
Lavellan concentrated on deeper wounds instead of small bruises and cuts, leaving them to  
mercy of Stiches' poultice and bandages. Obviously he was saving his energy to fight  
against obnoxious Almarri's heir who kept Inquisition soldiers hostage.

_Compassionate smooth met battle hardened rough, tips tracing upon newer wounds.  
  
  
_

The Iron Bull kept his composure as fingers trailed upon his face. Pain disappearing from  
cheeks where Almarri fighter bashed his shieds on prior. Holding an amused snicker seeing  
the Inquisitor standing on his toes, another hands holding the Qunari's folded arms for  
support, trying too hard complimenting lack of height.

Varric's prior literary work was accurate to a degree, but he missed an important detail. One  
tiny detail he would never share to the rest of inner circle members. A particular trait the  
former Ben-Hassrath making him regretted not for abandoning the Qun.

' _Commanding forces unfamiliar. Swinging sword of light unknown. Away from safety of  
forest and his Keeper. Yet struggling his very best. Sprouting dazzling, enchanting wings  
each time he advances. Want to be there when the confident turned uncertain. Giving push  
he needed. Encouragement when untold fear enveloped slender shoulders_'

Recognizing Cole's solemn monologue, Bull's good eye widened in disbelief. Both Blackwall  
and Cassandra were practically beaming from listening to Bull's inner thought. It was not  
the details they'd take amusement out from but rather a certain flustered couple's reaction  
whenever Cole innocently spoke of their secrets. The Qunari looked at the elven mage to find  
him astonished, cheeks turning dawnstone pink.

'Need some time alone?' The Warden deliberately teasing the stiff figures, not surprised  
should they turned to statue on the spot. 'Seems like a good place to break up camps,  
anyhow'

Fingertips distanced from grey cheeks, much to Iron Bull's dismay. Gentleness turned  
confident stoic in less than a second. 'Right, we've been fighting through dangerous region.  
Let's take a break.…and Cole? We really need to talk'

'Don't be too hard on the kid, he meant well' said Blackwall, smirk had not left his face.

'I know. Just going to tell him about privacy and timing' replied the Inquisitor. Whomever  
seeing him at the time would think he got dawnstone growing beneath his cheeks.

'So…back is it?' the Seeker approached the Iron Bull, passing poultice to the bigger man  
before proceeding to oversee the men setting up camps and securing the perimeter.

'Hmm mm' the Qunari mused gleefully, watching Inquisitor's back as he confidently passing  
orders and replying to reports. In his reverence to the Herald, Varric failed to mention one  
fatal flaw reverting Andraste's chosen to be mere mortal. The one trait that reminding him  
Herald of Andraste was elf first before Thedas' beacon of hope. After making sure nobody was  
looking, the Qunari approached Lavellan and slapped the boy's back 'No  _slouching_ , you're the  _boss_!'

* * *

Threads of light slipped through curtains, landed right onto Lavellan's eye. Fully awakened,  
the elf reached for his lover's forehead, kissing him gently before leaving the warmth of the embrace.  
He proceeded to dress himself, silently cursing for sleeping in work clothing. Josephine would chastise  
him should he appear in wrinkled apparel. He changed into fresh ones then, allowing Iron Bull a brief view  
over Lavellan's smaller figure. Locking his gaze upon spinal area, double checking no wings grow out  
from the slender back.

After equipping his harness, the Qunari approached Lavellan. Enticed at visible nape between stiff  
collar and slightly wet silver hair. Iron Bull bit Lavellan's nape lovingly, gentle enough but not without  
leaving a bite mark. Surprised, the smaller boy distanced himself from the towering Qunari, covering  
his nape with his right hand. Slight peach hue blossomed under sky blue vallaslin.

'You ass! People will see!'

'Exactly my thought!' Laughed the Qunari as he descended the stairs. Not long after he stepped  
his foot onto stone cobbled stairs, he received a slap on his back. It was surprisingly strong for  
a mere mage, then again the elf had been training swordsmanship. It took little time for him to  
realize the slap would leave a mark. 'Hey!' Unfortunately for the Qunari, Lavellan had descended  
the stairs with grace and speed of a Halla. Denying Iron Bull from pinning the snickering mage  
to the wall, kissing his lavish lips in return.

For the rest of the morning, nobles and friends alike were treated to slightly embarrassing  
sight. A small red love bite on the Inquisitor's nape and a red hand shaped mark on Bull's  
broad back. It took collosal effort for the Chargers and Inner Circle -exluding the First  
Enchanter - members to remove Iron Bull from plastering his back on Skyhold's stone wall  
during sparring session. Cassandra commenting how they acted like children whilst trying  
to steal a glance herself.

The Inquisitor, however, was less mortified as he swung his spirit blade against barrier  
protected practice dummy. Both Commander Helaine and Cullen observing his form. Only  
the former templar was unsure what to make of a certain red mark on their leader's nape  
and couldn't help but letting out a boyish loud snort.


End file.
